There's No Such Thing as Happily Ever After
by Hanna Squalor
Summary: Esme and Olaf after book 12. Spoilers.


It seems people have began writing Esmé and Olaf fics. I haven't been writing for a while so I'll have to break out the old E and O obsession.

Disclamer: I don't own anything in this story.

Jerome's coat was warm. Warm as it always was. Warm like the day he first put it around her shoulders sheltering her from the cold in the theatre basement.

Why. Why you may ask is Esmé squalor sitting comfortably in a taxi cab, riding away from a burning hotel completely unharmed? How could it be possible. Well I ask you… would the Esmé Squalor you know leave a blind fold on in a burning building for the sake of not breaking the law?

No. Of course not. Everything was easy to get out of. First she left Carmelita in the lounge. Next, she grabbed Jerome from the burning lobby.

Oh the irony, Olaf was the one who left her to die and Olaf was going to be the one getting her out. Her acting would save her. The damsel in distress bit always worked on Jerome like butter. It also helps to be wearing lettuce that has partially burned off.

Esmé looked away from the window, it would be long before her fiery past would come back into her life.

Esmé ran her fingers across the burn scar on her left hand. Laying across a red couch, Esmé wore a white sundress with pink and orange flowers on it. Going back into the lap of luxury, and the rush of in fashions was an easy transition.

Click.

_What was that?_

Click.

_There it is again._

Eyes wide she turned to face the doorway. "Well, well, well… she's survived a fire and still looks as beautiful as when I left her in it."

"Olaf."

"Esmé."

"What are you doing here?" Esmé asked flatly.

"It seems you happen to be alive." Olaf stated looking boredly about the room. He stepped into the room casually, he touched pieces of furniture as he made his way to the middle of the room.

"Yes. No thanks to you. " Esmé snapped. "What do you want, Olaf? Money? Because I'm not--"

"Money, is not the reason I'm here, Esmé." Olaf said, cutting her off.

"What do you want then?" Esmé said impatience and nervousness seeping into her voice. The man made her positively uneasy.

"You."

Esmé inhaled sharply. "Why?" she breathed.

"Because Jerome has you. You should know by now I want what I can't have. When I thought you were dead I slid into a depression because of the need for you back."

The heartfelt confession was like sugary acid that stung into her heart like every emotion at once. "You almost killed me."

"Remember that night in the theatre when you first met Jerome? You were a teenager, he gave up his coat because you were so cold in that old dress. Well I might have been reading on the other side of the room but do think I wasn't jealous?"

Esmé lost it. Her own jealousy getting the best of her she yelled "What about Violet? You self centered bastard! I had no home or food! It was just a coat. You seem to be able to pursue whoever you please! Violet, Beatrice, Olivia!"

"You married him! You married him after you made me a promise!" Olaf argued.

"Smearing our blood together is no binding contract. It's orphaned misfits sharing a tattered blanket, thinking they were in love." Esmé's waving voice sailed across the tension filled air between them.

Olaf took the two steps between them and grabbed her arms tightly. "You know better than to refuse me." he growled. Esmé squirmed in his grip. "No…don't tell me I'm hurting you…You've lost your touch, Esmé." he grinned evilly.

"Let me go." Esmé said calmly. He released her and placed one unkempt hand on her delicate chin. She closed her eyes and turned away.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Surely you aren't acting like this because you're in love with Jerome." he asked.

Esmé sort of laughed. Of course not. Why should she love Jerome when she was in love with someone much more dangerous and evil. Someone who would treat her awful just because he loved her and didn't want his enemies to take her away. Why would she love Jerome if she was hopelessly unexplainably in love with someone who tried to murder her.

"Oh…I see we aren't enjoying a life with a man who would rather cuddle than kiss. I know you, Esmé. I know what you like and that isn't it. Your grounded here and you long to fly. Riding the wind on the eagles with Beatrice always made you happy. A life with Jerome will kill you inside."

"And a life with you will just kill me outside. Literal death. Why would I go with you? You left me in a burning building. No matter what I do there will be now happily ever after for me! Never!" Esmé yelled, a single tear rolling down her face.

"You never used to cry." Olaf stated, with a face that looks as if he has broken his favourite toy. He gently pulled her closer using only the hand on her chin. He kissed her cheek where the tear was rolling stopping it in it's tracks, leaving a salty sweat taste on his upper lip.

Shaky intakes of breath from Esmé were the only sound that echoed off the walls of the large room. Esmé felt as empty as this room. Desperately packed with furniture and it still was empty and large.

Olaf pulled her in close to himself. For the first time in months he held her in his arms. There was a noticeable difference in her form. A weight gain, odd for her. But she hadn't gain it anywhere else. "Esmé are you…pregnant?"

Esmé pulled away quickly. She nodded as she continued to back away.

Olaf clenched his teeth. Jealousy filled him quickly. "How long?" he asked in a low whisper. She stopped moving.

"Five months." she wet her lips and sat on the chair behind her. She looked at the floor while he calculated that the baby could be his or Jerome's.

"So you have been sleeping with him." Olaf said quietly, sitting on the couch beside him.

"Of course, he's not an idiot you know…well not completely at least. I'm acting, Olaf." Esmé said, looking at a wall.

"You could have _acted_ more carefully." Olaf added bitterly.

"It might be yours." Esmé defended.

"All the more reason for you to come back to me, my sweet." Olaf urged.

"Why? Olaf why? You risked my life once why would I put another life in danger. Carmelita certainly never fared well." Esmé stormed.

Olaf said nothing. He merely opened the his inside pocket and took out a worn piece of paper. He tossed it at her carelessly. Picking it up, Esmé realised it was the paper they had made their vow over. As they cut their hands and held them together, bleeding into each other, this paper caught the stray drops. Even though it belonged to two people, the blood looked one in the same.

Esmé had been so enthralled with the memoirs she didn't notice the change in the room. When she looked up, Olaf had gone. Disappeared like the shadow he had become. Esmé looked frantically around the room for him. But he was gone.

Gone.

The room was empty again.

Like she was.

You need to be full to have a happily ever after.


End file.
